In My House
by PSdancer54
Summary: A series of one-shots throughout the life of Ginny Weasley.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

This story is a series of one shots in the life of Ginny Weasley. These experiences may or may not have been based off of some of my actual real life moments. Please review, and enjoy.

I imagine this one to be the summer before Ginny's third year, or Harry, Ron, and Hermione's fourth year. It obviously takes place after the Quidditch World Cup.

I Do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the series.

Chapter 1

…you never, ever, leave juice on the table

Have you ever heard of flavour packets? If you haven't, they're these really amazing packets of flavouring, that you put in glasses of water, that make that water taste like something else. I know, they're pretty amazing. Hermione brought some when she came over before the whole World Cup disaster.

Back to the story. So, I'm sitting here, drinking a "raspberry ice" drink, from a flavour packet, when Mum hollers at me to go get something. So, me, being the nice person that I am, go to get whatever it is. I think it was a cup from the landing upstairs. Why it was there, I'll never know…

And all of a sudden, I hear shouts and a whole lot of cursing coming from the kitchen. I come back, without the glass, and see Fred holding a lot of red parchment, and George holding an empty glass, looking murderous, and muttering foul words under his breath.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Fred asks, attempting to get more red parchment off of the table.

"Why would you leave a glass of red juice on the table where it could spill all over everything?" George hisses at me, indicating the empty glass.

And just like that, it clicks. They must have knocked over my glass, spilling red juice all over their super secret parchment pieces, and now have the nerve to blame it on me!

"Me? I didn't do anything! I left my glass there for five seconds, to go get something, and you idiots spill it! Honestly, I turn my back for two seconds…" and I flop into a kitchen chair, trying to get a look at what the parchment says. But, because of the juice, all of the ink has run. Shame. Anyway, this just causes the twins to start shouting off their heads again about how I ruined all of their work.

"You sound like Percy," I mutter, which makes them start shouting louder. Which, naturally, draws Mum into the whole ordeal.

"What on earth are you three doing? And Ginny, did you even get that dustpan I asked you to get?" she asks, as the twins fall silent. All of a sudden, they start up again, telling Mum what exactly I did, while I zone out. It was a dustpan she wanted, not a glass. That makes so much more sense.

"Ginny, dear, are you listening?" Mum asks. I snap back into reality and notice the twins smirking at me. "I asked you to clean up the whole mess."

So, I had to clean up the sopping table, without magic, because it was summer hols, and I just happen to be underage. Stupid magic laws. At least, the twins had the decency to let me despair in peace, without them smirking at me every five seconds.

The lesson of the day is: In my house, you never, ever, leave juice on the table.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

This chapter takes place during Ginny's fifth year, Harry's sixth. It's after her and Dean break up.

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

Chapter 2

…you never, ever, tell your best friend who you fancy

Anybody who knows me well, or at all, knows that I used to have a major crush on Harry Potter, and that I am half dead in the mornings. Unfortunately, that statement has changed, and now reads anybody who knows me well, knows that I am hiding something, and that I am half dead in the mornings. This something that I happen to be hiding is the fact that I now fancy Harry again. Back to square one.

On this particular morning, I am standing by the stairs in my usual half dead state, waiting for Luna, so that we can walk to breakfast together. These two girls in my year that I kind of know walk into view at the end of the hallway and smile at me, but I am severely distracted by a distinctive black-haired head a few paces behind them. As they get closer, Harry and I make brief eye contact, before I look down. I know, I'm quite pathetic, no need to rub it in. And then, he ambles over to the side of the corridor and kneels down to rummage through his bag. I have a near panic attack, and do the best thing my dead brain can think of to do.

I turn to the two girls, and start babbling to the one about our muggle studies exam we had the other day, all the while glancing at Harry out of the corner of my eye. The other girl, who is in my charms class, starts to look slightly alarmed. Using my peripheral vision, I see Harry stand up, frown at me slightly, and continue down the hallway. Meanwhile, the girl in my charms class tugs on the other girl's elbow, and they leave too, leaving me to wallow in my despair.

"Very nice," a dreamy voice pipes up behind me, and I turn around to see Luna standing there, staring slightly to my left. "How peculiar."

"Luna, you won't tell anyone will you? That I fancy him again?" I ask her urgently.

"Of course not. I just think it's very interesting," she says slowly.

Ron, who was making his usual stampede to the great hall, slows down.

"What? What's interesting?" he asks us, looking from my face, showing panic, to hers, showing an utterly blissful, calm, serene, expression.

"Nothing much, Ron, just that Ginny-"

"There you are, Won-Won!" Lavender interrupts her. Usually, I despise the sound of that sugar-sweet, hyper voice in the mornings, but today, I am immensely grateful for Lav-Lav. She takes Ron by his hand, and leads him down the marble staircase, while I turn to glare at my supposedly best friend.

"What?" she asks innocently. I grunt in response, and follow her down the stairs for breakfast, although I'm not sure if I'm capable of food at the moment.

Lesson of the day: In my house (or school), you never, ever, tell your best friend who you fancy.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:

I do not own Harry Potter, or any of its characters.

I imagine this to be at the beginning of Ginny's fifth year, or Harry's sixth year, before the try-outs. And I just realized the other day that Colin and Ginny are in the same year! How strange- for me at least. RIP Colin Creevey.

Chapter 3

…you never, ever volunteer to help Colin Creevey learn Quidditch

It was the start of fifth year. And, as per usual, we had a ton of homework. Actually, more that usual, on account of OWLS and all. So, naturally, I was sitting in the common room, attempting to start the rather large pile in front of me. About five minutes through, Colin Creevey interrupted me. He didn't say anything, he just stood there.

I sighed and looked up. "What Colin?" I asked.

"Ginny, can you help me with something?" he asked earnestly. I nodded hesitantly, and he continued. "I heard that Harry's holding try-outs, for the house team, and I just thought that I would like to learn how to fly. And I was wondering if you could help me, because, you know, you were on the team last year, and you're bound to be on it again," he finished, and smiled at me hopefully.

I found myself looking at my pile of homework, and nodding. "Let's go find you a broom."

Ten minutes later, we were standing on the pitch, me with my broom and training robes, and Colin with a school broom, and Ron's overlarge training robes.

After I had explained the rules, we decided to try flying. He managed to get on his broom and into the air with ease, and we decided to try flying around a bit. He looked at me, and I nodded, and he tried to fly towards me.

What happened next, was totally unexpected, though I should have been anticipating it. He shot towards me, and everything went black.

I woke up in the hospital wing a few hours later, with a bloody nose and an awful headache, Colin lying in the bed next to me with his arm in a sling. I turned my head in the other direction, and Ron was sitting there.

"Hey Gin. How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Good. I think," I said.

"That's good. Pomfrey says that there's no lasting damage. You'll be out in a few," he jiggled his feet, and I noticed that there was a bag by his feet.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Well. I was…um…taking a walk, and I happened to see Colin fly towards you and knock you both of you off of your brooms. I ran on to the field, and managed to get both of you here."

"Taking a walk?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Erm…if I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Harry, okay?" Ron asked, his eyes searching mine. My stomach felt a strange tingle, and I nodded. "I've been practicing. Now that we're getting a new keeper, I thought that maybe I would try out…" he trailed off sheepishly.

"No Ron. That's brilliant. Not stupid at all," I said, replying to his unspoken sentiment.

"Ginny?" a voice asked from my right.

I turned over to see Colin watching me anxiously.

"I'm really happy you're okay, and I'm really sorry. I promise I won't try to fly ever again," Colin said.

"No problem Colin," I said, getting up and wincing slightly, as I took my bag and began to leave with Ron.

The lesson of the day is: In my house, you never, ever, volunteer to help Colin Creevey learn Quidditch.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

I don't know what year this is, but James is already at Hogwarts. Enjoy this one!

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

Chapter 4:

…you never, ever, let your husband tell your kids about the bogeyman.

The bogeyman is an entirely muggle convention. It was thought up to scare kids, for some reason that I cannot identify. Harry learned it through his cousin, who had thought it would be funny to scare him. Harry, needless to say, didn't worry because he didn't think that the bogeyman could fit in his cupboard. He did, however, remember the story, and thought that it was a good idea to tell our little daughter the tale.

I was sleeping in bed, next to my husband, when I heard a sniffle. I opened my eyes and turned over to see Lily standing there.

"Mummy," she whispered. "Mummy, I'm scared." I sat up and gave her a hug.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Did you have a nightmare?" I asked her.

To my surprise, she burst into startlingly loud tears. "Mummy, the bogeyman. It's in my room!" she wailed. I glanced at Harry, who was surprisingly still asleep, and tried to comfort her. She eventually calmed down.

"Lily, would you like to sleep with us tonight?" I asked her.

"Oh yes!" she cried and jumped into our bed between us, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"What about Al? What if the bogeyman goes into his room?" Harry said in a sleepy voice. So he _had_ been awake!

"Mummy, can Al sleep with us too? I want him to be safe," Lily said earnestly. I nodded wearily, and she jumped out of bed and ran out of the room.

"Harry, are you awake?" I asked, leaning over to him. He nodded, keeping his eyes closed against the light that Lily had turned on in the hallway. "What on earth possessed you to tell her about the bogeyman, of all things?" I said, in a forced calm voice.

He shrugged meekly. "Dunno…she said she wanted a bedtime story," he mumbled.

"Harry James Potter, you are a dead man," I hissed as Lily came trudging back into the room with a half asleep Albus. She let go of his hand, and he slumped over onto the floor, curling up into a ball and falling asleep again. That's my boy-both of us hate mornings and love our sleep. Lily climbed into bed next to me and promptly passed out. Harry muttered something about snakes and started snoring gently. I settled in to go to bed too, but no. Oh no.

Lily is a kicker. She kicked when I was pregnant, and she kicks now. So I had to endure her kicks in my side. And then Albus started up. He breathes though his mouth when he sleeps, so that makes him the loudest breather on the planet. And then Harry started muttering. Again. After listening to this cacophony of sounds, and feeling all of these kicks, I simply gave up. I got up, grabbed my wand from the bedside table, made my way around a sleeping Albus on the floor, and walked into Lily's room.

After all, I am a grown witch. I can defend myself against a bogeyman. If there even is one. With this thought, I settled myself into Lily's too-small bed and started to drift off to sleep.

The lesson of the day is: In my house, you never, ever, let your husband tell your kids about the bogeyman.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

**I don't actually know if Ginny and Harry move to Godric's Hollow when they get older, or if their house had modern plumbing, but oh well. It works for this.**

**I am SO sorry for the long break. I've just been so super busy with homework and stuff. The good news is that I only have about a month and a half of school left, so after final exams, I'll have loads of time to write. And I've got some new stories coming up. **

**Oh! You should also check out this forum (Link on my profile). My cousin started it, and the two of us are judges. So if you have some free time and want to enter a competition, check it out. **

**Rambling done. Please enjoy the story.**

**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

…you never, ever, hire a plumber.

After Harry and I got married, Harry wanted to move to Godric's Hollow, a couple of doors down from where his parents lived. Who was I to complain? I mean, I didn't have to live near Fleur (who has, admittedly, become alright), my Auntie Muriel (who should have died ages ago), or my brother Ron (who used to insist that Harry and I sit on opposite ends of the couch. When we were engaged).

Right. Back to the story. So we moved into this house that was previously owned by muggles. So it had all of the muggle-y things in it, like a smelly-vision, a micro-waver, etc. We, with the help of Hermione and Percy (who is actually quite clever, and a lot more mellower than he used to be), managed to get rid of the extraneous muggle devices and instead put in a few wizard-y ones. We did however, keep the muggle plumbing and the muggle fridge-erator/ice box, because that thing is so useful.

So anyway, one day, it broke. Harry was at work, Lily was napping, James and Albus were playing, and I heard this sound of rushing water. I ran into the kitchen, and lo and behold, found a mess. Quite literally. There was water everywhere, and pieces of lettuce were bobbing around in random places. I totally and utterly lost it right about then. James took Albus and led him upstairs to safety, while I stuck my head in the fireplace to screech at Harry.

"Harry! The thing in the kitchen that makes the ice exploded, and-wait a second. You're not Harry!" I shouted into the face of his bemused assistant.

"Nope," she replied cheerfully, despite having been screamed at through a fireplace moments before, "He left on a mission with Mr Weasley a few minutes ago to train the new recruits."

"Argh!"

I then tried what seemed like the next logical choice-Hermione. She had, after all, grown up as a muggle. After screaming into her fireplace for 10 minutes, I was forced to accept the fact that she wasn't home.

So I tried Mum, because even if she has no knowledge of these things whatsoever, at least she was someone who could help. And do you know whom I found? Hermione, that's who.

So then the two of them came rushing over. Hermione said not to try and fix it with magic, because it could just mess it up even more. So she dragged out this old phonebook from the hall cupboard, and managed to find a plumber.

He came over immediately and stopped the flooding. Hermione and I had to sop up all the water with towels while he went back to his truck to get some parts. Mum went upstairs to play with the kids, because she said she couldn't bend over for long periods of time. I think that she just wanted to see us suffer, personally.

Around ten minutes later, Hermione and I were done, but the repairman still hadn't come in. Another twenty minutes later, and we were starting to get worried.

We went out to his truck to see what was happening, and he was lying in his seat with his eyes closed.

"Do you think he's…dead?" Hermione whispered.

"I'm not sure, but go get Mum!" I ordered, as she scurried back into the house. She came running out a few moments later, with Mum in tow, clutching a screaming Lily. I could see James and Albus watching through the window in the front.

"What do we do?" I hissed.

"Call the ministry?" Mum suggested.

"That won't work. We'll need the muggle police," Hermione corrected, before using her celly phone to call some number. Within a few minutes, two muggle police cars came driving up.

"You mentioned that you think he might be dead, ma'am," one of them said.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "He came to fix my friend's refrigerator, and then he came back out and we found him like this."

All of a sudden, the man in question gave a snort and sat up.

"What'd I miss?" he asked sleepily.

All of a sudden, Mum started laughing. "Ha! You thought he was dead, Ginny! Ha!"

"You did too," I replied sullenly.

When the repairman trudged back into the house, I turned to the two officers.

"I would invite you in for tea, but the ice box exploded," I told them apologetically.

"That's alright," One replied. "We'll just need you to give us your name so we can report this."

"Ginevra Potter," I replied, ignoring the sniggers from Hermione.

The other man paled. "It's okay Jim," He said to the other cop, "I'll stay and do this".

After the other police officer left, we learned that the man had a son who was a wizard, and he had read about Hermione and I in one of his son's books.

When Harry came home from his mission, he found the four of us having tea on the front porch, and the two boys playing in the yard (Mum was still holding Lily. I swear, she must have an iron grip on that baby! And that just reminded me. Don't think that Hermione's a terrible mother, because she left her two kids at home alone. She brought them over to Bill and Phlegm's for the day).

He didn't let me live that one down for weeks.

The lesson of the day is: In my house, you never, ever, hire a plumber.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

**Hey! I like the idea of Ginny doing something like this, even though it may be a bit OOC. I think that I was just thinking about how she came to terms with the whole Harry/Cho thing. I'm really sorry about the delay, but school is winding down now, and I should be freer to write over the summer. I'll have plenty of new material, due to the ridiculous amount of family time that I will be spending with my ridiculously large amount of cousins. And do me a favour, and please leave a review telling me what you think. Feedback is always lovely! Here we go…**

**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. **

Chapter 6

…you never, ever, write a fake letter to Cho Chang.

I was thinking the other day about the Triwizard Tournament. Harry was telling the kids about how he had to fly around the Hungarian Horntail, and then that led to me thinking about Cedric (because Harry would never mention that to our children). And Cedric leads right back to Cho Chang.

You see, I seem to have a bit of a problem with her. I know that technically I can't be mad at her for dating Harry. I mean, at the time, I was dating Michael. Even though that was only to stop thinking about Harry. But whatever. Not the point.

Because the issue with Cho is that she was the one that Harry shared his first kiss with. And sometimes, this bothers me immensely, and I can just see her smug little face.

So the day after that, when Harry was at work, James and Albus were over at Hermione and Ron's, and Lily was napping, I wrote a letter to Cho. Which I was never going to deliver, of course.

_Dear Ms. Chang, _

_It has come to my attention lately that I seem to be having a bit of a disagreement with you, even though you have moved to America and married a random Muggle. The image of your face taunts me in my sleep and I cannot help but think that you are going to come back to England to steal my husband. Who just so happens to be Harry Potter. And, we have three children together. _

_Why, might you ask, would I think this? The answer, Ms. Chang, is that you were Harry's first girlfriend, and I believe that you may think that you have a special "claim" on him. Kindly do not continue to live under this delusion. He is mine and always will be. _

_The fact that you were also his first kiss adds some complications to this whole business. Because, you see, I am his wife and the mother of his children. You, on the other hand, just had a short relationship that you ended because you were jealous of his best friend, who was so totally and obviously in love with my dear brother Ronald at the time. And while you did date, I always knew that we would end up married, so I do consider his kiss with you null and void. Additionally, you moved on pretty quickly from Harry with Michael Corner. Therefore, if you would like to ruin a different marriage, please ruin his and not ours. _

_Best Regards, _

_Ginny __Potter_

Harry came home soon after that, and the house went berserk. James and Albus had come home by this point, and the house was in literal chaos as three kids ran (or toddled in Lily's case) around Harry.

Things settled down after that, and while I was making dinner, Harry ambled into the kitchen holding a piece of parchment that he was reading amusedly.

"What's that dear?" I asked, while I absentmindedly stirred the stew.

Harry came over and wrapped his arms around me. "Why don't you answer that question?" He asked.

As I peered at the paper and caught a glimpse of a few words, the cold feelings of dread began in my stomach. I turned away from the stove very slowly.

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

"You left it on your desk. Now, would you mind explaining what made you write this letter?" he asked, grinning cheekily.

I blushed to the very roots of my hair. "I dunno. I was just bored, I suppose."

"You really shouldn't be mad at Cho. If I remember correctly, you were very much taken with Michael Corner at the time," Harry said.

"Right, well, may I please see that letter then?" I asked. Her handed it to me and I grabbed my wand and quickly burned it, letting the ash drift down to the kitchen floor.

"You know, if your insane logic applies to me, then all of those kisses that you had with not just Michael, but Dean as well, are 'null and void'," Harry said, smirking.

"What can we do to fix that?" I asked, my eyes widening.

Harry just smirked and leaned in. Right when we were about to kiss, a rather large explosion was heard behind us. I felt something wet hit the back of my head, and opened my eyes to see that Harry had a rather ugly splatter of stew on the side of his face. He took off his glasses to clean them, and then we surveyed the kitchen together.

While we had been talking, the stew had overheated and then somehow exploded, which I suspected was the work of James, whom had most likely gotten a new pranking apparatus the last time he saw George. There was now stew all over the stove, and over us as well.

The children ran into the room, skidding on the stew (which had also gotten on the floor).

"Wicked," breathed James as he surveyed the damage that he had done.

Lily gurgled and tried to lick some stew off the floor, while Albus just looked shell-shocked.

"Right. Well, I'll clean this up, and then Daddy and I will change our clothes, and I'll restart dinner again. How does that sound?" I asked.

"I'm hungry, Mummy!" Albus said, and Lily squeaked in agreement.

"How about we go out to dinner instead?" Harry asked. There were general shouts of agreement to this proposal, and we soon found ourselves in a nearby restaurant.

Needless to say, the next time we went to the Burrow, Mum was very enterained by James's story about the time that Mummy and Daddy kissed and dinner exploded.

The lesson of the day is: In my house, you never, ever, write a fake letter to Cho Chang.


End file.
